


Black Cat Got Your Tongue?

by AlyKat



Series: Falling [2]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Gen, Halloween & hayrides, Originally Posted on Tumblr, fall fic fest, halloween party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 18:17:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5100818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyKat/pseuds/AlyKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there was anything John had learned from going to the Delta Kappa Epsilon's first ever Halloween Charity Masquerade Ball, it was that he was terrible at charades, and talking to Rose Tyler would be a lot easier if he didn't have laryngitis. Of course, being voiceless at a masquerade party did have its advantages...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Cat Got Your Tongue?

**Author's Note:**

> I had maybe a bit too much fun with this one, honestly I regret nothing, because I think it's precious. Also, it's based on actual events. My parent’s first date, my dad had laryngitis so they had to pass notes back and forth the whole time. That story has always stuck with me, and I always thought it was so sweet (and extremely hard to imagine now if you knew my parents), and I thought it'd be perfect for this. It's not often you find a fic where for once the Doctor is utterly incapable of using that gob of his! 
> 
> Also, as this is part of a series, it really won't make a whole lot of sense unless you read the first story. Technically, I suppose you could read this as a stand-alone and could put together what happened in the first fic, but it might just be better to read Something Like You first. 
> 
> Again, originally posted to Tumblr, not beta'd, all mistakes are mine. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it.

Honestly John was glad he’d gotten laryngitis. Really! He was! It got him out of work for at least a week, which meant he had no real responsibilities for a week! Well, with the exception of grading research papers, exams, worksheets, extra credit worksheets...basically everything he’d been putting off for the past month. Really, being allowed to work for Professor Yana had been a great blessing while he was trying to finish up his own degrees, but being under the weather to begin with (he maybe shouldn’t have fallen asleep out at the lake those two and a half weeks ago during the eclipse), and then put under added stress by being informed (last minute, mind you!) that he would be teaching all of Professor Yana’s classes for the next two weeks...well...it had taken its toll about a week and a half in.

Really though, what having a week off to rest up and somehow magically will his voice to return in time to continue his obligations, meant was that he got to go back down to London and go with Donna to the First Ever Delta Kappa Epsilon Halloween Charity Masquerade Ball. Where, he had learned through his various means of deduction, one Rose Tyler would be attending.

He’d only met her that one time at Donna’s party, and he hadn’t really been the greatest guy in the world to her at the time. He did feel bad about that. Rose had been sweet and kind, and wasn’t afraid to flick his head and call him out on his rudeness or snark right back at him. John had been kicking himself since that night that he didn’t at least get her phone number before she went jogging out of his life. And Donna had been nearly useless in his quest to get in contact with her. It was only by chance that John had been included in a mass text sent from Donna to Jack and a few other people about the Halloween party, and that’s maybe how he’d found out Rose was going to be there.

Which now left him with trying to figure out  _where_  “there” was.

The party was in full swing by the time he arrived, everyone filling the rented ballroom in their extravagant costumes and laughing as they played up the whole theme, making like they really didn’t know who it was under the masks. John thought it was all rubbish, most of the masks only obscured a person’s eyes, the rest of the face was clear to see, and frankly any observant person would be able to look at who they were speaking to and surely have no trouble whatsoever in figuring out who it really was.

Then again, he knew not everyone was as clever as he was. Plus, in his case, no one would know who he was. Mainly because no one at this university knew him, and also because he couldn’t speak. Thus, no one -- or rather, one someone in particular -- could recognize his voice and realize that he’d been able to attend the party after all.  

With his phone in hand, a message already typed up across the screen, John made his way through the ballroom in search of Donna. He paused briefly at a mirror, just to double check his costume. True, he wasn’t the most dressed up out of all the men there, but at least he took comfort in knowing that he wasn’t currently one of the one hundred or so Phantoms milling about in search of his Christine. He’d had his hair at least trimmed up the week before, shortening it enough that it would stay out of his eyes for the party, and had styled it back in a fashionable coif with a portion of his mask there to keep it in place.

His suit was a deep midnight blue three piece with a deep crimson waistcoat -- that seemingly shifted from red to black depending on the light and how he moved -- and silk tie to match. The mask, however, oh the mask John was especially proud of. He wasn’t what many would consider “artsy” as such, but the mask he had made with a little help from an artist friend at school was a thing of beauty.

Made from a single piece of carefully rolled and flattened clay, perfectly sculpted to fit his face, its rich blue color was reminiscent of the night sky when illuminated by a full moon. Tiny, fine specks of glitter were within the glaze to give it the impression of sparkling stars when the light danced over it. Across the top left side, three flares arched up and to the right, the design repeated across the bottom right, covering his cheek and coming to an end just below his bottom lip. It was an elegant combination of the simple yet traditional mask associated with a masquerade ball, with a variation on the slightly overused and cliche’ Phantom mask.

Over all, for being relatively a last minute costume (if a week could be considered last minute), John thought he looked rather fetching. With a pleased smile to his reflection, and a small nod, he turned to continue on his way, finally having found Donna sitting near the fireplace with a man whom he presumed to be Lee, her boyfriend. There was another man standing with them, dressed in a long, blue World War Two military jacket, a RAF officer’s hat perched on his head while just a strip of blue cloth with two holes to see through covered his eyes. John only paid him a passing glance before stepping up in front of Donna and giving her a wave of hello like any happy younger brother would.

Donna, though not his sister by blood, had always treated him like family, even when he was that angry, broody thirteen year old who had found himself standing on their doorstep in the middle of the night, near frozen through and soaking wet, with everything he could pack into three rucksacks at his feet. Back when his name was still John Alexander Smith; when his world had suddenly gone all topsy-turvy and everything he’d known was taken from him.

Dressed like a 1920s flapper, in a cream fringe dress with little hat to match, and her champagne mask adorn with faux gold accents, Donna looked as if she’d truly just stepped through a crack in time, transporting her from one decade to another. Of course, her elegance was short lived once she turned her eyes to him and realized who he was under the mask.

“Just what the hell are you doing here?” She demanded.

John’s mouth pressed into a tight, awkward not-smile as he shrugged and motioned around to all the people present.

Donna rolled her eyes. “I know it’s a party, Dumbo! I meant what are you doing here when you should be at home taking care of yourself.”

Bringing his phone up, John woke the screen before holding it out for Donna to read.

_Have you seen Rose? I’d like to dance with her._

“Rose? Rose who?”

John quickly added to the text.

_Tyler_

Frowning, Donna scrunched her face in confusion, shaking her head. “Who’s Rose Tyler? Am I supposed to know who that is?”

At that, the vintage RAF officer stepped closer, his arms folded over his chest as he looked John over from head to toe. “You mean Rosie?” He asked, almost cautiously before looking back to Donna with a nod. “Rosie, you know her. The little blond that will forever be my saving grace, and may eventually give in to my plans of a perfect life together.”

Donna snorted gruffly as she shook her head and frowned. “Oh her. You can give up those plans, Jack. She’s never gonna give in to you, let alone date you.”

“Hey! We go out on dates all the time, thank you very much!”

“Not considered a date if the girl doesn’t know it’s a date. Give it up, pretty boy.”

John’s back stiffened slightly. Being the outsider of the conversation, he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. If this Jack was serious or not. Though, if this was the same Jack that Rose had mentioned at the party, then it was quite possible John really had nothing to worry about. Not that he did at the present moment, anyway.  Because, well, he just wanted a dance with Rose, and to possibly apologize for being a bit of a prat at the party. That’s all.

Raising the phone again, he waved it in Donna’s face before pointing to the original text again with a sharp stare. This time though, it was Jack who answered.

“She’s here, but if you want to dance with my girl, then I’m going to have to ask who you are and why the hell won’t you just open your mouth and ask where she is?”

Yeah, okay, maybe not being able to talk at the moment was going to be a bit of a hindrance. John hadn’t really thought about that. His face scrunched up in an almost comical expression of  _Ehhh...it’s complicated_ , he shrugged and waved his hand in a lazy circle in front of him before Donna finally rescued him.

“Jack, John. John, Jack. He’s my brother and a dumbo and has laryngitis, which is why,” Donna turned her eyes back to John and began jabbing her finger into the center of his chest to make her point, “he’s not supposed to be here.”

John frowned and opened his mouth, barely managing to croak out a strangled sounding, “Oi! Stop it!”

“No talking!” Donna snipped back.

Beside her, Jack raised an eyebrow over the top of his mask and gave John the once over again, this time with a knowing smirk playing at his lips. “ _John_ , huh? Well,  _hello there_ , then.”

Donna turned a pointed glare in Jack’s direction. “Stop it.”

“What?” Jack spread his arms out at his sides, palms up in surrender. “I was only saying hello!”

“Just tell him where your friend is so he can have his dance and then go home.”

The smirk still plastered on his face, Jack tilted his head back, using his chin and eyes to motion across the room. “She’s over there by the balcony. The one in the red hood and cape with the wolf half- mask.” 

John spun on his heels, eyes wide as he scanned over faces and costumes and finally zeroed in on the one he was looking for. The fairy lights around the doorway behind her haloed her in a soft gold, making her nearly glow as she swayed absently in time with the music. John’s throat went dry, drier than it’d already been to begin with.

Wetting his lips quickly, he glanced back to Jack and Donna to flash them both a thanking grin and nod before he started across the room. It was as if some unknown line was reeling him in, drawing him through the sea of shifting bodies and pulling him to the only anchor in sight. By the time he was finally standing in front of her though, John was at a complete loss about what to do next. There she was, that petite blond girl who had invited herself into his life for just that hour or so, that one night at the start of the month, and somehow managed to take up residence in his mind without his knowing it.

John had been prepared to thumb out an apology to her on his phone, and ask for a dance, but standing there now he found himself slipping his phone back into his pocket and holding his hand out to her without a word. It took a second for the look of surprise to leave Rose’s face and for her to smile and take his offered hand, but when she did, John swore his heart had duplicated right there in his chest with the way it was beating so quickly. Their eyes locked, John guided Rose out onto the dance floor and twirled her gently into his grasp. One hand on Rose’s waist, the other gently clasping hers, John gave a small, shy smile as they began dancing to whatever cheesy ballad had started playing.

 _Hello_ , he mouthed out, knowing that he’d no doubt not be heard over the music.

Rose’s eyebrows scrunched together as she smiled awkwardly, her head tilted to one side before she gave a half laugh. “Hello,” she answered with a tongue-touched smile.

For a moment, John wondered if Rose knew who he was, if she could tell his identity without clearly being able to see his face. The way her cheeks flushed and she tore her eyes away from his, made him wonder all the more. It was possible, no doubt about it, but at the same time…it was almost maybe not. The hour or so they’d spent together out under the stars at the lake, there hadn’t really been enough light for her to truly get a good look at him, had there? And the flickering light from the bonfire when he walked her back was bound to cast all kinds of shadows and distort features. So really, there was a strong chance that Rose truly didn’t have a single clear idea whatsoever as to what he looked like.

That was intriguing.

Encouraged by that thought, John pulled back just enough to use his right hand in a strange attempt at sign language as he mouthed out what he was trying to say. He pointed to her ( _You_ ), then to his eye ( _look_ ), and then floundered as he tried to figure out how to mime  _very lovely_. Okay no, not being able to talk wasn’t such a good thing after all.

Rose frowned and took half a step closer, her hand coming to rest on his arm gently. “You alright?”

John quickly nodded and raised his hand, silently begging for her to wait just a second while he pulled his phone out once more and jabbed at it as fast as he could.

 _TYou lpok very lobely_.

For a moment, Rose simply stood there staring at John’s phone, the most peculiar expression on her face before lifting her eyes wearily to meet his. “Uhm, ta…I think…” She answered and her tone gave away the peculiar look John couldn’t name: awkward. He quickly looked at the screen and inwardly kicked himself. Oh what he would give for his old flip phone again. Ready to try to retype it, minus the spelling errors, he stopped when Rose touched his arm again. The awkwardness was gone, replaced instead with sympathy. “Oh…hold on. I’m sorry, I don’t want to be rude or anything, but, are you deaf? Is that…is that why you…?”

John quickly shook his head no, his eyes comically wide behind his mask.

“Mute, then?” Was her second guess.

Oh, how John was beginning to despise not being able to talk now! Shaking his head again, he slid his phone back in his pocket before miming a coughing fit, then a talking motion with his hand, followed by more coughing, and finally pointing to his throat and a slash of kaput through the air in front of him.

Realization dawned on Rose’s face, brightening her eyes as her smile spread from ear to ear. “Your voice? You lost your voice? Is that it?”

Rose Tyler! Oh she was a clever one! John grinned back just as brightly as he nodded and tapped his nose with the tip of his finger. Pointing to her again, he gave a thumbs up in approval. Maybe…this wasn’t so bad after all… 

 

* * *

The rest of the night Rose and John rarely left each other’s side. Occasionally John would run off to get them a refill on drinks – thankful that since it was a charity and cash bar, the punch seemed to be left free of smuggled alcohol – or Rose would be taken out for a spin on the dance floor, but always she would return to wherever John was. All smiles and flushed cheeks, and bright, shining whiskey colored eyes. And despite not being able to speak properly, the two still found ways to communicate and get to know each other.

They took up residence at a small table for two, tucked away in a quiet corner where no one thought to look for them. There Rose told of how she’d grown up on a Council Estate and had worked so hard to get scholarships enough to go to school; how her mother was secretly proud of her for doing it, but was quick to voice her opinion if she thought Rose was starting to get “airs and graces going to that fancy school” of hers, and her ex-boyfriend who didn’t understand why she couldn’t just be happy staying put, having drinks at the pub with him and his mates and watching the matches. She told him how she wanted to be an artist someday, travel the world and stay in one place just long enough to do a few paintings of the landscape, sell them, and move on again.

In return, John typed out about his life in Edinburgh – though, he didn’t say that’s where he was from. He told her how he was a grad student, working hard to earn his degrees and striving to one day be called a Doctor of Everything (her bright, teasing laughter at that brought a swell of warmth to John’s chest, if he were being honest).

What should have been strained and awkward conversations given the circumstances was actually quite entertaining, and some might even say endearing. Maybe not John, but, some others. Outsiders looking in, perhaps, watching him type away on his phone before sliding it over for Rose to read, laugh, and voice a response of her own.

When the announcement of the last slow song of the night was made, John and Rose both looked up towards the dance floor. Was it really that late already? Blinking, John turned to look back at Rose as he motioned to the dancers.

“Last dance?” He croaked out, just barely, cringing a bit as the effort to speak strained on his already injured larynx.

Rose smiled softly and brought her hand towards his face as John’s brows shot up in surprise. He nearly went cross-eyed watching her place just one finger on his lips, stilling any other words he might possibly want to try to get out with just that action and a simple head shake.

“Shh,” she answered, still smiling. “I’d love to.”

Swallowing thickly, John nodded silently and stood. With Rose’s hand clasped in his once more (he wasn’t going to think about how rather terrifying it was that her hand felt so right being in his, so soon), he led the way out to a small, clear area, pulling her in close to dance.

He’d moved to position his hands as he’d done the first time only to stop when Rose pressed closer to him. Frozen and scarcely breathing, John stood stock still as she slipped her arms up over his shoulders and let her fingers lightly clasp behind his head. John’s own arms slipped around her waist easily, keeping her close as they began to move.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, John rolled his eyes at the cheesiness of the last song. He had rather vivid memories of Donna and him watching  _Casper_  every year at Halloween after it came out, and to have  _Remember Me This Way_  as the last slow song of a Halloween party was either brilliance or cliche. Or coincidence, but he rather doubted that.

A tickling sensation on the back of his neck quickly brought John’s rapidly wandering thoughts back to the present. Back to the girl gazing up at him from behind a wolf mask that only covered half her face. To amber eyes that seemed to glow in the dim light and held him transfixed as their bodies swayed in perfect time with each other and with the song. John’s breath caught in his chest when Rose’s fingers sifted through his hair, and oh it had been ages since anyone had done that. Pleasant chills ran down his spine and his breath stuttered slightly at the feel of her nails oh so gently brushing across the back of his neck before sinking into his hair once more, all while Rose’s gaze stayed locked with his own.

Daring to take a deeper breath, desperate to get his lungs working again, John tried to speak, to even just mouth out some kind of words, though he honestly didn’t know what he could have or would have said. His breath was stolen from him again though when Rose just smiled and turned to rest her cheek against his shoulder. The red hood of her costume she’d been wearing all night slipped from her head, revealing elegantly curled blond hair hanging loose against her shoulders. Unable to resist, and his courage boosted by Rose’s actions, John lowered his head carefully – mindful of both their masks still in place – and allowed himself to press his face to her hair, just this once.

When the song came to an end a scant few seconds later, John slowly pulled back. Rose’s eyes were on his once more and he had to dart his tongue out across his suddenly dry lips again before he could fully compose himself. Of course, the way Rose’s eyes followed the path of his tongue made it a near impossible feat, but, like the cool and levelheaded adult he mostly was – sometimes…occasionally…attempted to be? – he resisted the urge to lean in and kiss her. He was tempting fate enough as it was being so close to her all night, even with the medicine for his laryngitis, he didn’t want to risk spreading it to her should he give in and kiss her.

Instead, he smiled and stepped out of her hold completely, needing to put that space between them. His right hand coming up, he tried for a bit of sign language one last time (this time with words he knew he could mime). A point to himself ( _May I_ ), walking motion with two fingers ( _walk_ ), a point to Rose ( _you_ ), and an elongated pentagon ( _home_ ).

Taking his hand without a word, Rose gave it a gentle squeeze before turning to pull him out of the ballroom.

* * *

 

The walk to Rose’s flat wasn’t all that terribly long, though, it would have been nice if the rain that had been threatening to fall all day could have held off for the fifteen minutes it took to get there. With his suit jacket draped around Rose’s shoulders in an attempt to keep her warm and somewhat dry, John was regretting not just driving her home. But he had wanted to spend more time with her, and walk her to the door, maybe even get another quick peck on the cheek!

Hand in hand they ran down the footpath, dodging puddles and laughing (or in John’s case wheezing pathetically) as they tried to reach the safety of Rose’s flat before either of them could get too soaked. Wouldn’t do for them both to wind up with pneumonia. Rose’s mask had taken flight when a gust of cold air caught it and ripped it from her a few streets back, while John’s held tight and secure against his face, tied behind his head with a couple strips of black ribbon.

Once safely inside the vestibule, the rain pittering down against the steps outside the front door, John struggled to catch his breath and keep from breaking into a coughing fit. Running through the cold rain, without his jacket, was no doubt going to do nothing in aiding his recovery, but to see the look on Rose’s face and feel her hand soft and warm in his? John knew he wouldn’t regret it.  

Rose dropped her hood back and laughed as she shook the rain off John’s jacket before handing it back to him. “Don’t think it’s going to do you much good now,” she teased, “but thank you for letting me borrow it. You sure you don’t want a jumper or something? You’ll freeze if you go walkin’ home out there like that.”

John made a performance of pretending to consider her offer of a borrowed jumper. He held his arms out in front of him, examining both one by one, then flattened his hands across his chest, stomach, and shoulders before reaching out to compare against Rose (well, minus her chest of course, though…maybe only just barely. Of course, his eyes may have dropped down to the open V of her shirt for a few seconds longer than acceptable just to make a point). He might be just a skinny strip of nothing, but he really doubted one of Rose’s jumpers would fit him. Rose must have realized the same. Her bright laughter filled the tiny vestibule and warmed John better than any jumper could.

“Stop it!” she laughed, reaching out to shove at his shoulder. “You made your point! At least I offered!”

His mouth pressed in a tight smile, John nodded and gave another thumbs up before he broke into a wide, genuine grin. For a moment, their lighthearted ease simply hung in the air between them as Rose broke into more giggles and John gave a soundless chuckle. As they slowly calmed themselves down again though, he rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to wipe away some of the cold drips trickling down the back of his shirt and struggling to decide what to do next. A thousand different ideas ran through his mind, but it only took one for him to pull his phone from his pocket and bring up his contacts page. Quickly, he thumbed in  _Rose Tyler_  and held the phone out to her with an awkward,  _if you want…_  , type of shrug.

Rose stared at the phone for a few seconds, clearly trying to decide if she should put her number down for him or not, before grabbing it in both hands. “You know, ‘s funny, I don’t even know your name. You never said.”

John waited for her to look up and hand his phone back to him before he shrugged and smirked, glancing out the window of the door before looking back to her. He pointed to her again, shook his head, and drew a question mark in the air.  _You never asked_.

Without giving her a chance to respond, John took her hand in his again, though this time brought it slowly towards him. He kept his gaze on Rose’s face to judge what kind of reaction he was going to get, and when he saw her give a small stuttered breath, he closed his eyes and bent to meet her hand with his lips halfway. It was barely more than a breath across her knuckles, his lips not even lingering long enough to steal a hint of warmth from her skin.

He let her hand fall gently and took a step towards the door. The rain was beginning to let up, so he really should try to make it back to his car before it started up again. Flashing her another quick grin, John turned and started back outside.

“Wait! You still didn’t tell me your name!”

Glancing back over his shoulder, John quirked a brow and smirked, miming out the same three motions he’d done just moments before. Holding up his phone, he gave Rose a wave, turned, and darted off down the street.

* * *

 

It wasn’t until he was safe and sound and wrapped up in more blankets than he knew what to do with on Donna’s settee that John picked up his phone and stared down at the new number saved there, attached to the name Rose Tyler. Knowing full well that she would be asleep by now (or, at least, he figured she would be. It was almost four in the morning, he hoped she would be!), John clicked the icon to compose a new message and settled himself down into the cushions and pillow Donna laid out for him.

_Thank you for inviting me. I had a wonderful time. It was nice to see you again, and even nicer to spend the evening with you. You made a lovely Big Bad Wolf. Happy Halloween! -John Noble._

Sparing only a second to debate the message, John pressed the send button and set the phone aside with a small smile still tugging at his lips. Getting soaked to the bone and quite the lecture from Donna for showing up at her flat looking like a drowned rat in the middle of the night was all worth it in the end. John rolled onto his side, face half hidden by the pillow and tugged the blankets just a little bit tighter around himself as he slowly closed his eyes and allowed sweet slumber to pull him under; his carefully crafted ceramic mask the last thing he saw before he drifted to dreams. 

 


End file.
